Footsies
by seattlecsigeek
Summary: Sara plays footsies under the table with interesting results.


**Title: Footsies  
Rating:** Teen  
**Authors:** CSIGeekFan and Seattlecsifan  
**Pairing:** Grissom/Sara  
**Summary:** Sara plays footsies under the table with interesting results  
**A/N:** This is for CSILover123. We hope you enjoy.

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**Greg's Side of the Story**

Everyone walked into the dimly lit restaurant off the strip, talking and bustling about. Nick and Greg had their heads bent, and when Nick let out a guffawing laugh, Sara shook her head. Knowing Greg, he was telling another bad joke.

Smiling, she followed the waiter to a table in the back set for six. After everything that happened with Keppler, Catherine had felt no desire just two days later to go out for a late breakfast. Sara hadn't been there when it all went down, but she'd heard from everyone else that Cath was having a hard time with it all. It was the only mar on Grissom's return from his teaching stint.

Taking one of the three chairs against the back wall, Sara watched as Brass took the seat to her left, and Warrick the one to her right. When Nick and Greg sat down, they faced Warrick and herself, respectively. That left Grissom to sit directly across from the detective in the group, instead of across from her.

A faint frown line creased her brow, as she perused the menu while sneaking peeks at Grissom. It wasn't until she'd decided on the fruit bowl that she laid it down, and openly gazed at him while he still debated.

They'd barely had time together since he returned from New England. As soon as they'd both reached home, she'd been called back to do a follow-up on a crime scene she'd worked, and after that, he'd had court. The most they'd managed was a rather passionate kiss that had them both stumbling over their doorstep, and right into the garish ringing of her cell phone.

So groping hands had ceased tugging and pulling at each others clothes, and she'd muttered a few minor profanities under her breath as she'd grumbled, "Sidle," and fatefully been called away from him. By the time she'd made it home, he'd headed off to court, leaving only a note on the fridge asking her to pick Hank up from the sitter.

Now sitting across and down from him in the high back chair of the restaurant, Sara felt her gaze turn to a stare; when he quickly glanced up. The slight quirk to his lips had her flushing slightly, and dropping her eyes past the beard he'd grown back to those lips. Lost in thought, she hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath, until she felt light-headed. The hum pulsing through her wasn't broken, until she heard Warrick say something.

When he finally touched her arm, Sara looked away and noticed the waitress standing, poised with pen in hand.

"I'll have the fruit bowl and yogurt," she stated, handing over the menu, before glancing back to see Grissom… laughing at her. Maybe he wasn't chortling out loud, but she could see his eyes dance with humor. Her glazed look gave way to a glare, and for a moment his eyes flickered with something akin to panic.

As noise of conversation flowed over her, Sara contemplated revenge. It wasn't until Brass shifted in his chair and inadvertently kicked her foot that she determined her course of action.

Grissom glanced up and felt a slight amount of panic as her eyes lit up, mischief sparkling through. When he felt her shoeless toe crawl up under the cuff of his pant leg, he clamped down on his reaction. It was not the place to reach down, haul that foot into his lap, and massage it until she moaned. Instead, he waited for her to look at him and quirked a brow. As her foot slid higher, his resolution to _not_ feel anything gave way to a desire to let out a groan. He swallowed hard, barely hearing Brass.

"So, how was the teaching?"

He managed to not choke out or stutter, "Good. Interesting." At Brass's raised brows, Grissom added, "It's always an experience to educate the youth of today," just as her foot rose higher. He swallowed hard again, as Brass's attention went to Greg.

Unable to take it, he used every ounce of will power to finally pull his leg back and say, "If you'll excuse me." Nodding to the other side of the restaurant, he added, "Restroom."

While Grissom was gone, Sara and Greg began arguing about a case they'd worked a few weeks back. They'd both been wrong regarding their initial theories, and Warrick and Nick were laughing at them.

"So, we were both wrong," Greg mock-glumly states.

Sitting down again, Grissom dug into the meal that had served in his absence. Everyone seemed to be tucking in with fervor, and he wasn't surprised. It had been a long day, and the team was ready to finish shift and head home. However, he knew that before any of them would consider sleeping, they'd all want to stuff themselves and maybe let the typical day of horrors go.

When Sara caught his eye she purposely, picked up a plump, juicy strawberry and took a bite. She watched his eyes widen when some of the juice dribbled over her lips and she licked it away. All she could think was, _this is fun._

This time, she was intent on her goal. Staring into his eyes and ignoring the cacophony of sound surrounding her in the form of her co-workers' voices, she reached out with her shoeless foot. Her stocking clad toe slipped up the side of his leg, and she intently watched his face.

He didn't even look at her, so she slid her foot a little higher up his calf, aiming toward his knee, and still no reaction. It didn't take much to slink those toes higher up, starting across his thigh… and see Greg, directly across from her turn a deep flushed pink as he half jumped out of his chair.

At the noise he made, followed by a mumbled, "Bathroom," Grissom looked at Sara and watched her neck turn bright red, followed by the apples of her cheeks. When she ducked her head, he saw her shift up in her seat. It didn't take a genius to figure out that she'd been aiming to distract him again and… found Greg instead.

Grissom's head whipped around toward the direction of the bathroom, and he felt heat slowly creep up his neck. Looking back at Sara, he raised his brows in surprise, and then glanced back to where Greg had disappeared.

By the time he showed his face again, it was obvious something wasn't right. When Nick asked, "You okay, Greggo?" the youngest CSI mumbled, "I'm fine. Upset stomach."

As their bill was paid and they made their way from the table, Sara had a difficult time meeting her friend's eyes. Slowly moving toward the front door, she found a very confused Greg standing outside waiting for her. A few feet from him, she found Grissom trying very hard not to be obvious with his quick peeks in their direction. The others had already made it to their cars and were headed for home.

Sedately walking together across the parking lot, Greg walked between Sara and Grissom, until the three were to the point they would part company. No one spoke the entire walk, until Greg made one fateful statement.

Looking at Grissom, then back over to Sara, he stopped in the middle of the parking lot. As the other two stopped next to him, he watched Grissom do everything human to control a passive expression on his face, but failing at keeping the slight pink tinge on his neck and ears. In the meanwhile, he watched Sara sneak a couple of glances at the CSI supervisor.

A grin broke over Greg's face when he finally said, "You know, Sara… either he needs to sit across from you next time, or you need to work on your aim." His smile widened as he parted company, made his way to his car, and started thinking back to so many interchanges he'd seen between the two of late that suddenly made so much more sense.

**Brass's Side of the Story**

I know it's cliché, but I like to sit with my back to the wall in public places. That way I can keep my eye on all the comings and goings. I'm a cop, by the way. My name's Jim Brass and I'm a Captain of detectives in the Las Vegas Police Department. I've lived in Vegas since I broke it off with my wife nearly twenty years ago. Getting out of New Jersey seemed like a _real_ good idea at the time and the showgirls of Las Vegas held a certain mythical charisma.

On this particular morning I was sitting against the wall at a table with five of the LVPD graveyard shift's 'nerd squad'. It was a welcome home breakfast of sorts for my friend Gil Grissom. He had been away on a teaching sabbatical and had returned just in time for the shit to hit the fan when the lab's newest CSI was shot and killed. A couple of days later, things had been sorted out and we were all having breakfast together after a long hard shift. Everyone but Catherine Willows, she'd taken Keppler's death a little hard.

I was sitting next to Sara. Sara Sidle, a very bright, very dedicated young CSI that I felt a little bit protective of. She was good people. They all were, really. Warrick Brown sat on her far side, with Nick Stokes, Greg Sanders and Grissom on the opposite side of the table.

Everyone was joking around and looking at their menus. Everyone but Sara it seemed. She was preoccupied about something, or maybe coming down with a bug - she looked a little feverish. I hoped she was okay. She'd been taking more time off over the last year or so than she ever had before.

When the waitress, sorry - server came to take our orders Warrick actually had to shake Sara out of her funk to order. I decided there and then I'd best keep an eye on her. I knew she didn't like me to be a mother hen to her, but she really needed someone to watch out for her.

When the waitress got to me, I ordered black coffee and a pancake sandwich with eggs over easy and bacon. I know my doctor would prefer me to avoid the bacon, but what the hell - you only go around once; might as well enjoy yourself.

Turning my attention to the rest of the table I noticed Grissom was looking a little sweaty too. After spending January in New England and topping it off with an airline flight, it wouldn't have surprised me at all if he was coming down with something.

"So, how was the teaching?" I asked him.

"Good, interesting." He answered, but he sounded like it wasn't all that interesting at all. Hmmm….I thought to myself, _this _is interesting.

"It's always an experience to educate the youth of today," Grissom finally added, totally distracted. "If you'll excuse me, restroom." He said as he pushed away from the table. Maybe it was just a stomach bug after all.

Sipping my coffee, I leaned back and watched the younger CSI's telling stories and swapping jokes, blowing off a little steam after work. Sometimes it's hard to come down from the job and go home and live a normal life. Well, try to live a semblance of a normal life, anyways.

Sara and Greg were bickering like an old married couple, and Nick and Warrick were talking about video games at the far end of the table when breakfast arrived.

I really don't know which is better, pancakes with bacon and coffee after a long night's shift or steak and bourbon after rolling the dice for an hour at the craps table. Right about now, pancakes and bacon get my vote.

When Grissom came back to the table his color was much better and he began eating with the rest of us. After a few bites I noticed he had started to stare at Sara, so I glanced unobtrusively to my right to see that she was enjoying a fresh strawberry from her fruit bowl. Really enjoying a strawberry, damn near giving it fellatio. She had juice running down her chin, for Christ's sake. It was so shocking I thought I might start blushing. Forcing my eyes straight ahead again, I noticed that Grissom was now studiously ignoring her, and he was blushing. This was really starting to pique my interest.

I continued my nonchalant observations while eating my breakfast. When Greg jumped up from the table, red faced, and bolted for the bathroom, the penny dropped. Pretending to stare into my coffee I noticed the flush on Grissom's and Sara's faces, as well as the embarrassed glances being thrown back and forth between them.

I knew for damn sure that Greg wasn't sick. I was pretty sure that he and Sara didn't have, and never did have that kind of chemistry between them. That left Sara and Grissom. Interesting, _very_ interesting.

I knew they'd had the hots for each other when Sara first came to Vegas, everyone knew - it was damn near impossible to miss, like a big neon casino sign flashing in the darkness. But things didn't seem to work out. In fact they'd gotten downright nasty for awhile. Until about a year ago, when they stared acting civil around each other again. About a year ago, when Sara started to take more time off.

Some damn smart detective _I_ am; a year, and I was just now getting suspicious.

But being the bright detective I am, I realized I needed proof. I knew I'd have to be careful, I didn't want to tip my hand and spook them.

After everyone settled up their bills and headed for the parking lot, I hung around the far side of my Charger and observed Greg, Grissom and Sara have a short conversation. Greg was looking pretty smug before he left; maybe I could get some useful information from him.

Whatever I was going to find out, it was going to have to wait as tailing Sara or Grissom was out. I was fine with watching them at work, but after hours was off limits. Whistling a Frank Sinatra tune to myself, I headed home.

It took over a week to confirm my suspicions. I watched them together at crime scenes and got nothing. I watched them in the lab and didn't see a thing. We even had breakfast together a couple of times and I didn't pick up any signs. These two were very good. I was starting to doubt myself when one morning it just fell into my lap.

I'd had to call Grissom out to a possible crime scene at Ridge Valley High School on his day off. He was actually complaining that I owed him one for getting him out of bed on a Saturday morning. Gil Grissom was actually complaining about going to work on his day off. What more proof did I need?

Really though, he and Sara both deserved to be happy. There was no doubt in my mind that they were perfect for each other. I was glad for them.

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End file.
